


all you need's a little sleep

by Mayarene Rose (Paradise_of_Mary_Jane)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [20]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, early season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:18:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21100859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradise_of_Mary_Jane/pseuds/Mayarene%20Rose
Summary: Tim lets out a low whistle as he and Martin stare at Jon’s prone form, his head pillowed against the mahogany desk. He turns to Martin who does not look in the least bit sorry. Actually, if Tim were being honest, he’d say the other man looked quite pleased with himself.Jon needs to sleep so Martin takes matters into his own hands.





	all you need's a little sleep

**Author's Note:**

> For day 21: Laced Drink
> 
> Okay, I know I'm supposed to be writing whump, but consider this? I could write fluff instead
> 
> Set in early Season 2 where things where not as terrible, Jon wasn't actively stalking his co-workers, and Tim didn't hate Jon's guts yet.

Tim lets out a low whistle as he and Martin stare at Jon’s prone form, his head pillowed against the mahogany desk. He turns to Martin who does not look in the least bit sorry. Actually, if Tim were being honest, he’d say the other man looked quite pleased with himself.

“So he just what,” Tim says. “He just fell asleep?” 

It’s not… It’s not completely unbelievable, except for the fact that it’s completely impossible. Tim’s worked with Jonathan Sims for years now. He knows the kind of hours the guy keeps, and how little he actually seems to go home. The research staff used to take turns dragging him away from his desk to get food or just to get some fresh air. It didn’t always work, either. It wouldn’t exactly be unreasonable to think that his body finally gave out on him and decided to take a nap right in the middle of the afternoon.

Except, Tim’s worked with the guy for years and never once has that actually happened. He and Sasha have a running bet on who could get Jonathan Sims to actually rest at appropriate times, and neither of them came close to ever winning it.

“Yup,” Martin says, completely straight-faced. “Came to ask if he wanted more tea and he just. There.”

Tim just looks at Martin. Martin who gives everyone tea and seems to be intent on being a mother-hen for the entire Institute, especially after that thing with the worms. Martin who is literally the only person who can get Jon to eat and drink at healthy intervals, albeit with a lot of grumbling and suspicious looks, but it’s still light-years away from what anyone else managed.

Martin who Tim definitely saw messing with sleeping pills earlier. Right before he brought Jon afternoon tea, actually.

It’s not suspicious in the slightest.

“Damn,” he says. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Blackwood.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martin says.

“Of course,” Tim says. “It’s for the best, really. I heard paranoia was a symptom of really bad sleep deprivation.”

“Exactly!” Martin says. “I’ve been telling him that for days now but he just won’t _listen _and--” He cuts himself off from what seems to be a rather long rant, seeming to remember himself, before clearing his throat and saying, “I think uh--We should probably move him to the cot, though. Can’t possibly be comfortable, sleeping on a desk.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Won’t that wake him?” Jon doesn’t seem like the type who’d manage to sleep through getting dragged through the archives. Tim doubts anyone could actually be _that _tired.

“Oh it’s fine,” Martin says with a confidence he usually doesn’t have, waving it away dismissively. “I reckon he’s a heavy sleeper.”

Tim wants to ask, he _really _wants to ask, but there’s a look in Martin’s eyes that’s more than just a little bit scary. And he really does not want to be the object of any more mother-henning than he currently is. Tim hadn’t known people weaponizing niceness was even possible, but he hadn’t really worked that closely with Martin until a year ago.

“Okay then,” he says after a beat. “I’ll take the legs, you take the head.”

Martin nods, a satisfied smile on his face. The tea lay forgotten, half-finished on the table and Tim very pointedly does not look at it.

And Jon? Jon snores on, completely oblivious.


End file.
